


To Stand Together

by winterscribbles



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon is a native songbird and I am a hungry domestic housecat, Domino Squad Lives (Star Wars), Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, more hurt than comfort for now I'm afraid but that will change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterscribbles/pseuds/winterscribbles
Summary: Hevy, Droidbait and Cutup are the last Dominoes standing after Fives and Echo are both assumed dead after an explosion on the mission to the Citadel. Wat Tambor has more interesting fates in store for them, but finds more than he bargained for in the ARC soldiers' heads.
Relationships: CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CT-21-0408 | CT-1409 | Echo & CT-782 | Hevy, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives & CT-782 | Hevy, Cutup & Droidbait & Echo & Fives & Hevy (Star Wars)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 31





	1. the way it used to be

**Author's Note:**

> So as the waves come  
> Let 'em take us  
> As they cover you and me  
> And they pull us underneath  
> I hope that fate will forgive us  
> For tempting the sea  
> I hope that they won't forget us  
> But we cannot go back  
> To the way it used to be  
> \- 'Used To Be,' Arrows to Athens  
> 
> 
> Content tw: Strong language throughout, description of burn injuries and somewhat questionable medical procedures towards the end. Thank you Onionling for the beta read, you're awesome!
> 
> This is my first foray back into writing multi-chapter fic in, oh... I dunno, probably about ten years. Comments keep the author motivated! Thanks for reading!

_“INCOMING, GET DOWN!”_

A lifetime of battlefield reflexes flung Hevy to the durasteel floor. To his left, he was aware of Droidbait swinging underneath the nearest bunk, heeding the warning as instinctively as Hevy had. Something small and round shot over his head - _grenade_? his mind supplied with as much confusion as alarm - and pinged against the wall behind him. Hevy braced for the inevitable flash of fire and heat.

It never came. Instead, an obnoxiously gleeful yelp punctuated the sound of boots thundering down the hall of the _Resolute_ towards them. Cutup shot into their previously-quiet dorm an instant later with Fives hot on his heels.

The first thing that Hevy noticed was that Fives was only half kitted up, with one leg bare to his blacks and his cuirass missing. The second thing that Hevy noticed was how Cutup’s eyes were wild with the kind of vicious glee that only came from an exhilarating round of tormenting one's brothers. He was clutching something - a vambrace? - protectively against his chest as he ran, holding it as far away from Fives as possible. The thing that had sailed over Hevy’s head mere moments ago, now resting innocently on the nearby table? Not a grenade. A comm unit.

Goddammit, Cutup. Goddammit, Fives.

“You’re both _di’kute_ and I hate you very much,” he announced, dragging himself up off the cold durasteel flooring. "What are we, karking cadets?"

No, they were five of the finest ARC troopers in the 501st. Not that anyone would have been able to guess, with the way Fives was squealing bloody murder trying to snag the vambrace from Cutup. Echo, inspection-spotless and perfect in full armor, had trailed in behind them at a leisurely pace carrying the rest of Fives' kit. He was now leaning on the doorframe, snickering at the chaos. Hevy was gonna punt all three of them into next week with all the loving tenderness of an angry rancor.

Not Droidbait, though. Droidbait was the only valid member of this disastrous team.

Said valid member was inching his way out from under the bunk, wary of getting caught in the crossfire. "You can't just cry loth-wolf like that, Cutup! What if Captain Rex had been in here?"

"Then he would've sent them to the mat and we'd get to watch them get their asses kicked, so we win either way," Echo countered in that mild, devilish way of his. Hevy took a moment to mourn the sweet, by-the-book shiny who had gone through training with them, nervously citing regs and reining in his batchmates' shenanigans instead of egging them on. Back then, Hevy and the others had teased the living Force out of him for his bookish ways. If only they'd known how good they had it then. Echo's encyclopedic knowledge of the reg manuals was now mainly used to test how far he and Fives could bend the rules without breaking them.

Fives shouted a jubilant war cry as he tackled Cutup onto the floor, causing Droidbait to yelp and duck for cover again. They briefly tumbled like a pair of juvenile gundarks before Fives emerged victorious, Cutup facedown on the floor with his arms pinned behind his back. “I’ll take that, thank you,” Fives chirped, plucking the vambrace out of his brother’s grasp.

Ever the optimist, Cutup tested Fives’ grip and got a warning elbow to the neck for his trouble. He mumbled something unintelligible against the cold durasteel floor but let his body slump in defeat. Hevy didn’t feel sorry for him in the slightest. Dumbasses, all of them.

Despite the inherent dumbassery of Domino, Hevy knew their squad was one of the special ones. For an entire batch of brothers to survive two years together in the field was almost unheard of. For that whole batch to go on to become ARC trained soldiers - well, that was a Force-damned miracle. The feat became even more miraculous when one considered the miserable start of their military career.

Hevy was willing to admit his own role in said rough beginnings. He’d always been the unspoken leader of his team, but that didn’t mean he’d always been a _good_ leader. It had taken his squad being pushed to the breaking point - and a few kind truths from good old 99 - to pull himself together and become the leader his brothers deserved. Following the near-disaster on Rishi, Hevy had taken a more active role as their squad protector in addition to being their heavy gunner. This included both watching their asses on the battlefield, as well as making sure they ate and slept. Not that he’d ever admit he cared in so many words - Hevy was the type of man to let his actions speak for him. _Someone_ had to watch out for these _di’kute_ , and as the reluctantly most responsible out of them, that duty fell to Hevy. (Which, fuck that, by the way. Being responsible sucked.)

Droidbait, on the other hand, had started out as the baby brother of the team. The littlest Domino who nobody could stay mad at even when he was accidentally drawing fire their way on the field. It was a status he now shared with Tup as Torrent’s resident _vod’ika_ , but the major difference between them was that Tup was too sweet to take advantage of everyone’s affection. Droidbait? Droidbait didn't only take advantage of it, he karking weaponized it. Everyone on Torrent knew that Droidbait could get away with anything he damn well pleased with a bright smile or well-timed puppy eyes. And while he was the weakest out of the five of them at hand-to-hand, he was kriffing _legendary_ as a sniper. Hevy had never seen anyone else manage a headshot at over four miles, but Bait had managed it at least six times. Six kriffing times. Force help anyone who ended up in his crosshairs, cause once he had them, he never missed.

Cutup was… well, he was Cutup. Goofy, charming, and cuttingly clever under the vapid guise he semi-intentionally wore. His dopey smile and disarming personality tended to make people let their guard down around him, which was often a mistake. His fingers were as quick as his wit, and he was equally as likely to acquaint himself with all of your pressure points as he was to shake your hand. His deceptively easygoing nature was also part of what made him such a good scout. Blending into his surroundings like he was meant to be there came as naturally as breathing to Cutup, and he was probably the only member of Torrent able to craft a quick and easy lie. For better or worse, this trait made him very popular whenever there were shenanigans to be had.

And then there were Fives and Echo. The two of them were inseparable, even by Domino standards, even though they couldn’t be farther apart in personality. Echo was studious, thoughtful and meticulous where Fives was stubborn, reckless and loud. The one thing they had in common was a penchant for getting into (and, somewhat less frequently, out of) trouble together. But they'd been among the first Dominos tagged for ARCs because they fought the way they played: With a fluid kind of effortless teamwork only achieved by knowing your partner inside and out. Watching them fight, you'd think they knew every move the other would make before they did. It made them a perfect unit on the field, and stupidly obnoxious anywhere else. Even after a lifetime of living with them, Hevy still couldn’t decipher half of what those two could communicate with a single glance. It was infuriating and unfair. 

Despite whatever setbacks they’d had as trainees, each member of Domino functioned as a flawless team now. It was unthinkable to Hevy that he’d once been prepared to walk away from all this. Look at them now - each one a fully trained ARC soldier with their own specialty, irreplaceable in the eyes of their captain and their general.

And still squabbling like a bunch of cadets.

“C’mon, Fives, Rex is gonna start assigning ‘fresher hours if we’re not at the briefing in five,” Echo called, tossing his brother’s bucket across the room.

Fives caught it without compromising his hold on Cutup. “Yeah, yeah, bet you’ve had enough of ‘fresher duty this month.”

“Only because you weaseled out of it.”

“ _You_ volunteered to take my shifts, and I had a fractured kriffing arm! Trust me, I’d _rather_ have been mopping floors than stuck in the med bay.”

Hevy cut in before Echo could come up with a suitable retort. “I’m gonna give you both a worse fate than ‘fresher duty if you don’t shut up and get outta here.”

“Can I get up now?” Cutup mumbled from the floor, and was answered with a resounding ‘no’ from his batchmates.

Fives jammed the bucket over his head and grabbed the cuirass from Echo, his plastoid-covered ass still planted firmly over Cutup’s center of gravity. It took him less than a few minutes to kit up the rest of the way. “This mission better not take more than one rotation. I do _not_ wanna miss sabacc night at 79’s again if we leave for Coruscant too late.”

Droidbait grinned from where he had climbed up to perch on his bunk. “I heard the Wolfpack’s gonna be there. Can’t wait to see Echo smoke Comet again.”

Fives howled in agreement. “It’s gonna be great. First round’s on me if we can show those bastards what for.” Even Cutup cheered at that.

Smirking, Echo offered Fives a hand up and hauled him off of Cutup, who groaned dramatically and flopped onto his back, his lungs free at last. Echo shoved Fives’ helmeted head playfully towards the door as he grabbed the wayward comm unit. “Alright, boys, don't get into any trouble without us. We’ll be back before you know it.”

They were off for an extraction mission to rescue some Jedi, Hevy knew. Rex had wanted a small team of soldiers for this infiltration, which was why all of Domino wasn’t going. Among them, Fives and Echo were the most experienced ARCs, and while extractions in general were nothing special, any facility tough enough to hold a Jedi was bound to give any soldier trouble.

Still, it was nothing they hadn’t faced before.

“Save some of those clankers for us,” Cutup called cheerfully after them. Fives shot playful finger guns back at him before twirling on his heel and falling into step beside Echo, disappearing down the hall for their briefing.

* * *

"I'm gonna tell Fives that his stash got raided by command while he was gone." 

Droidbait snorted a laugh as he walked at Cutup's side. "I dunno if the look on his face would be worth getting clobbered for once he realizes you're talking out of your ass. Again."

Cutup flashed his signature dopey grin in response, all carefully-maintained stubble and wiggling eyebrows and straight white teeth. He probably thought it looked sexy, but it looked more like he was in pain than anything else. "Cmon, who could clobber a face like this? Huh?" 

Beside him, Hevy smirked and shoved at Cutup's shoulder. "Oh, I can think of a few people. Especially if you're threatening my contraband booze."

"Threatening? Never! Just theorizing."

"Theorize all you want. I'm not saving you from Fives when he comes after you this time."

"You didn't save me last time, either," Cutup pointed out with an exaggerated pout as they entered the hanger. All three lit up when they saw General Skywalker's ship already docked.

Hevy would deny it to his dying day, but not having all of his brothers where he could see them ate at him like nothing else. The worry compounded on itself when one of them got split from the team to run a special mission. Hevy knew that Echo and Fives were perfectly capable, but right now they received the full brunt of his worry regardless. It didn't help that rumors were flying that the mission had gone wrong somehow, that Plo Koon had ended up having to extract the extraction team. But nobody had posted a casualty list yet, and Hevy figured that no news was good news.

The ramp to Skywalker's fighter was lowering as Domino approached, revealing the three Jedi assigned to the mission. Kenobi exited first, followed by Skywalker and Commander Tano. Hevy was so busy looking past them to scan for his batchmates that he almost missed how drained they all looked.

Behind the generals came Cody and Rex with their teams. Their… very small, bedraggled looking teams, very few of which sported 501st blue.

A sinking feeling of dread suddenly knotted in Hevy's stomach. He couldn’t see Fives, couldn't see Echo. They had to be there, right? There hadn’t been a second ship bringing back the rest of the troops?

It wasn't until Rex turned away from Cody and headed their direction that Hevy realized that Rex was clutching a spare bucket under his arm. The plastoid was burnt and blistered, blackened with scorch marks stretching from the right side all the way around to the left.

Under the black scorch marks and grit were the simple blue stripes that marked it as Echo’s.

Behind him, Droidbait made a broken keening sound of shock. Cutup swore quietly. Hevy didn’t move.

Rex removed his own bucket with his free hand, and the grief in his bloodshot eyes spoke volumes more than any words could. “I’m sorry,” he all but whispered, pressing the bucket into Hevy’s hands. Hevy barely felt the weight of it. He barely felt much of anything. “We didn’t see the missiles until it was too late. Fives tried to save him… Neither of them--"

“Stop.” Hevy didn't recognize his own voice, it was so raw and course. He wasn't aware of his own body shoving Echo’s helmet into Cutup’s arms and turning away, but suddenly he was moving back into the _Resolute_. He didn’t know how long he walked or where he went. He just knew that he had to move his feet or he’d fall apart.

All that he could think about, playing on repeat in his mind, was that Fives would be crushed about not making it to sabbac night.

That night, all three remaining members of Domino pressed their hands onto a single blue handprint in the corner of their dorm and cited remembrances through tears. _Not gone, merely marching far away._

He’d failed his brothers. He’d failed them and he didn’t deserve to sob the way he did once Cutup and Droidbait were finally asleep.

_Ni ceta, Fives. Ni ceta, Echo._

* * *

"Echo, _look out!"_

The droids were taking aim with the anti-aircraft. Echo was gonna get caught in the blast. Fives was vaulting over the temporary barricade before he could think about what he was doing, barreling full tilt towards his brother and ignoring Rex's shouts of furious alarm.

“Fives, _no!”_

Too late.

The shuttle exploded on top of them. The last thing Fives saw was Echo flying backwards from the force of the explosion before his vision whited out along with any bodily sensation he had, and then everything was on fire.

Fuck, he wasn’t gonna make it to sabbac night.

* * *

Fives woke up with a choked gasp. His throat was raw with the sting of smoke. His vision was blurry, his ears were ringing, and…

And he wasn't dead. Huh. _World’s just full of little surprises,_ he thought deliriously.

“Echo?” he slurred, the word heavy on his tongue. His face felt oddly numb. Come to think of it, he couldn’t get much of a feeling for the rest of his body, either. He tried to shift his weight, move his arms or shoulders or something--

That was a mistake.

He didn't know if he made any noise of pain because he couldn't hear past the roar of blood in his ears, but his body was arching off the hard surface it had been resting on in the throes of sheer agony. Fives had been shot before, he'd been stabbed, he’d broken bones, but nothing compared to this. Every nerve was screaming, ice cold and burning hot all at once.

There was a voice, a voice he didn't recognize. Couldn't have hoped to recognize, not in this state. Fives couldn't tell what the voice said over the waves of pain, but there was a stinging sensation in his neck. A moment later, the pain eased just enough for him to hear his own thoughts again.

When he was finally able to peel his eyes open, he saw white. Must be the med bay back on the _Resolute_ . Ugh, Kix was gonna hand his ass to him (in that loving medic way) for being stupid and running _into an explosion_. He blinked a few times to focus his vision, expecting to see the familiar sterile white wash of the med bay, maybe Kix's worried face leaning over him.

Instead, he was greeted with unfamiliar walls, unfamiliar droids, unfamiliar medical equipment, and no vod to speak of.

This… was not the _Resolute's_ med bay.

"Th' fuh?" was the raspy, confused sound that came out of his throat. His entire right side was still on fire, and moving his neck sent lightning bolts of nerve pain racing up and down his spine. Probably not a good sign. Working through the pain, Fives gritted his teeth and tilted his head to look down at himself, and a wave of cold nausea swept through him.

He was down to his blacks, and the fabric was melted and warped. Fives was willing to bet it was seared into his skin - he’d seen it happen before. The exposed area of his skin was blistered, raw, covered in burns from the explosion. But that wasn't what had caused the blood to freeze in his veins.

His blacks were torn at his right shoulder, revealing the mangled stump of his right arm. His right arm that now ended at the elbow under a bloody, hastily tied tourniquet.

Yeah. Definitely not good.

"Sir, the second subject is awake." Definitely a droid's voice, but it was a struggle to refocus over the rising panic in his chest. His vision was blurring and doubling at the edges. His arm was gone, his arm was gone, he was going to be sent back to Kamino and decommissioned, his arm was _kriffing gone_ \--

"Good."

The second voice was finally enough to snap Fives out of his panicky shock. He jerked his eyes up (ow, ow, ow his neck) only to have them land on a tall, disinterested-looking Skakoan. At least, as disinterested as a masked creature could ever look. The Skakoan floated impossibly towards them, feet and legs obscured by the long green robes it wore. Techno Union, his fuzzy memory identified. Separatists.

Fuck.

It was impossible to guess the creature's facial expression behind the mask and goggles - did Skakoans even have faces, Fives wondered hazily? - but a barely perceptible tilt of his head told of mild curiosity. "Hello, clone. My name is Wat Tambor.”

Somewhere in the recesses of Fives’ scattered mind, he dimly recognized the name. He didn’t have time to ponder on it. “The hell do you want with me? Where’s Echo?”

Another passive head tilt. “The clone CT-1409 sustained heavier injuries and will require further treatment before we are able to proceed with it’s modifications."

Red clouded the edges of Fives' vision, and every muscle in his battered body tensed. “Where is he?” he snarled, as if he was in any position to be making threats. “If you’ve so much as kriffing touched him--”

Oh.

Oh no.

Tambor had floated aside to reveal a second operating bay, and there was Echo. Quiet, unresponsive. In an arguably worse state than Fives, covered by a light sheet with massive burns over his exposed arm. Fives could only see his left side, but if his injuries were anything like Fives' then his right was worse. Someone had shaved his head, and there was a droid cutting into his kriffing skull with a scalpel, the bone exposed where the too-pale skin had been cut away and folded back.

The red around the edges of Fives' vision became a blazing inferno that swallowed the world.

He didn't think. He didn't plan. He just rocketed upright, throwing himself at the nearest droid. Machines screamed as he dislodged sensors and IV lines, but the lightning fire in his nerves screamed louder. He knew he didn't stand a real chance. But _that was his fucking brother_ they were cutting into and Fives wasn't about to sit by and watch it happen.

Predictably, something slammed him back down to the floor within moments, and his still-recovering reflexes were too slow to counter it. He gave a howl of pain as he made contact with the ground, overwhelmed to the point that he couldn't gather his thoughts enough to even think about standing. There were stern voices above him, and then a new stinging pain in the side of his neck. Hypospray.

"Whatever you're trying to do..." Fives coughed, grimacing against the cold durasteel floor. He was suddenly feeling a lot more sympathetic towards Cutup for getting his face shoved into the floor... was that just this morning? "Whatever you want from us, you're not gonna get it."

He wouldn't have been able to see Tambor's face even if his vision wasn't swimming and fading into patches of black, but he could hear the smirk in his voice. "You're quite mistaken. You see, CT-5555, I brought you here to open you up and take out all your secrets. However, I think I've found something in your heads even more interesting than Republic battle tactics."

Whatever sedative they'd given him must be making him hear funny, because he had no idea what Tambor was talking about. "You wanna speak basic, or keep talking banthashit?"

"You've got a strong will for a clone, don't you?" Tambor mused. "If my suspicions are correct, you will be a delightful subject to test my hypothesis on."

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to see. No, no, don't fall asleep. Stay awake. For Echo. For Hevy and the others. Force, Hevy must be losing his mind with worry. "You're not… getting anything. Not from us." His words were slurred even to his own ears.

"Oh, I will. I haven't cracked just what it is in your heads yet. But I will."

Fives lost the fight against the sedatives, and the swimming blackness at the edges of his vision blocked out the world.

 _Hevy, Bait, Cutup... Ey’ika... I’m so sorry._ _I couldn’t save us._


	2. we are not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after the Battle of Lola Sayu, Droidbait and Cutup are called to help General Skywalker deal with a mysterious assassin targeting Senator Amidala. Cutup gives Fox a shenanigans-induced migraine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the night, in the night  
> Where we feel at home  
> With the wires humming  
> It's alright, it's alright  
> We are not alone  
> Can you hear it coming?  
> \- “Neon Brother,” Nothing But Thieves
> 
> Chapter warnings: None.

“The second we get off this damned planet,” Jesse gritted out as he hefted a box of supplies into the cargo hold, “I’m taking a sonic and going straight to my quarters. And if anybody disturbs me for the next twenty four hours, they’re gonna get real well acquainted with my knuckles.”

Hevy grunted in quiet agreement. He couldn’t blame Jesse, but he also doubted Jesse needed that nap as much as he did. Six months standard since the Battle of Lola Sayu, and his life had gone even more spectacularly to shit. Hevy was still figuring out how that was possible.

No, actually, he knew exactly how. Pong Krell, that was how.

Never had he held so much hatred for another sentient before. Even after six months without them, Fives and Echo were still raw, gaping holes in his heart. So watching the lives of more brothers thrown aside like they were nothing but trash? It had set his blood on fire. Not even the hole Dogma had burned through Krell’s chest (with Hevy’s own blaster, no less) could make up for the lives lost.

Clenching his jaw against the fresh anger that threatened to rise in his chest, Hevy slammed the bay door of the transport ship closed. “That’s it for the cargo. Just need to board and we can get the hell outta here.”

“Not a second too soon. Can’t wait to see the backside of this damn planet.”

Hevy nodded in agreement and left Jesse to finish up, heading back into the base to fetch his batchmates. To say that he couldn't wait to leave was an understatement. Perpetual darkness and carnivorous flora aside, Umbara had earned its place as Hevy’s least favorite planet in the known galaxy.

“Bait, we’re going,” he barked down the hall as he approached the barracks. “Grab your gear and let’s move.”

Droidbait grimaced and swung his legs around from where he’d been lying back on his bunk. Hevy didn’t blame him for trying to squeeze in a few more minutes of shuteye; they were all physically and mentally drained. “Where’s Cutup?” Droidbait asked with bleary eyes.

Hevy shrugged. “Figured you’d know.”

“Haven’t seen him since we woke up.”

Great. The last thing he wanted to do was go on a hunt for his brother and possibly delay their departure. Biting back the growl that threatened to rise in his throat, Hevy left Droidbait to pack up and went to check through the halls, dodging brothers hauling bags to the ship.

It wasn't Droidbait's fault he was in a bad mood. It wasn't even Cutup's. But at the moment, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone in the 501st who wasn't irritable and exhausted.

Hevy passed through the hanger and did his best not to look at the gaping hole that Hardcase had blasted into the bay doors with the stolen Umbarran ship. They’d laugh about it over drinks someday, he knew, but right now it was just a reminder of what they’d gone through on this miserable planet. Even the normally-chipper Hardcase had been quiet these past few days, and not only because he was still sore that Domino hadn’t taken him on their unauthorized mission to capture the Umbara air base.

In the end, it had been a damn good thing he hadn’t been along. Domino had only escaped with their lives because they worked so seamlessly together. Cutup was one of the quickest scouts in the army, and even his escape had been way too close for comfort.

They hadn't expected a parade in their honor when they got back or anything. But a firing squad of their own men still wasn't the welcoming party they'd hoped for. It was a moment that would no doubt haunt his dreams for years to come, staring into the barrels of his own brothers' rifles. (Thank kriff that nobody had actually listened to Dogma when he told them to fire. As much as he hadn't wanted to believe they'd actually shoot them, there had been a few terrifying seconds that his faith had wavered.)

Then, in a move that impossibly made Hevy hate the man more than he already did, Krell had set the 501st against the 212th. They'd shot and killed brothers, unknowingly. That had been the last straw for Rex, but the traitorous Jedi had still managed to cut down a dozen more  _ vod _ before Tup had finally managed to bring him down with a stunner.

Yeah, this campaign had been rough. But despite all of the pain and trauma and hard decisions, Hevy didn’t regret a single choice he’d made.

It’s what Fives would’ve done. Hevy was just trying to live up to his memory.

“Hevy.”

The voice startled him out of his retrospective musings, and he turned to see Rex striding towards him. His face was drawn, like he hadn’t gotten much sleep, but his shoulders were as square as ever as he walked across the hanger.

Hevy snapped to attention, heels clicking together as his spine went ramrod straight. “Sir.”

“At ease, trooper.” Rex came to a stop in front of him, hands folded behind his back. Hevy let his shoulders relax somewhat. “I wanted to apologize, and thank you for what you did back there. You saw what I couldn’t, and you probably saved a lot of lives.”

Hevy lowered his gaze. For all of the grief he’d given him during the campaign, he didn’t blame Rex for what had happened. He blamed the Jedi traitor, and no one else.

Well. Maybe Dogma, a little bit. Droidbait had forgiven him for his role in the whole shitshow, but Hevy definitely would need some more convincing.

“Just doing my job, sir,” he spoke aloud. “I only wish we could’ve saved more.”

Rex clapped a somber hand on Hevy’s shoulder. “You and me both,  _ ner’vod _ . Ready to put this place behind us?”

“Been ready, captain. Just gotta find Cutup, and we’ll be set to go.”

“Good man.” Rex nodded, clapping his shoulder once more before moving on. “You and your squad get some rest. I already have your next deployment orders.”

Hevy balked. “Already? Sir, me and the men are exhausted. We need more recovery time.”

“Relax, Hevy.” Rex raised a placating hand towards him. “You’ll have a week standard before you go out - plenty of time to rest. But part of the reason that General Skywalker was called away from Umbara was that Commander Fox uncovered an attempt on Senator Amidala’s life. Luckily he put a stop to it before anything happened to her, but they think they know when the assassin will strike again. They want Droidbait and Cutup there to deter any attack and to track down the attacker.”

Hevy groaned internally. Everyone in the 501st knew that Senator Amidala occupied a…  _ soft spot _ in their general’s heart. This often resulted in the 501st getting dragged around after whatever trouble the good senator got herself into, as the general tried to protect her. “And what does that have to do with us? Can’t the General handle this himself, or the Corrie Guard?”

Rex leveled him with a look that was half warning and half amused understanding. “Not our place to question orders, trooper. Fox’s men are overworked as it is, and General Skywalker specifically requested your squad. He needs Droidbait’s sniper capabilities and Cutup’s tracking skills. And don't worry - the General will take good care of them.”

Hevy’s shoulders sagged. Rex knew how much he hated separating from his batchmates for a mission. He'd never liked it much, but since Fives and Echo… well. That wound had never really healed. “Fine. When exactly are they expected?”

"Centaxday. Commander Fox will have all the details they need on arrival."

Hevy grumbled something under his breath that was probably a 'sir yes sir' but might've been something considerably more vulgar. Rex gave him another one of those Looks.

"Get your squad and get to the ship. We're taking off on the hour."

"Sir, yes sir."

Time to track down Cutup and get their  _ shebs _ back home.

* * *

The journey back from Umbara was blissfully uneventful. The week following their departure was quiet, with most of the time being spent either asleep in their barracks or processing the events of the campaign in small groups huddled in the rec room. General Skywalker had been horrified to hear of everything that had happened, and had made his way to the ship as quickly as possible to check on his men. He was a good general, and it was a relief for all of the men to have him back.

Now, their rest period was up and Droidbait and Cutup were off to Coruscant. Predictably, Hevy had been eaten up with anxiety in the days before their departure, which translated into a very irritable, snappish squad leader. He hated letting them out of his sight, and Droidbait didn’t really blame him. But he’d assured Hevy over and over again that they’d be alright. It was all he could do.

Droidbait loved getting to visit Coruscant. Like most clones, he’d never been inside the Jedi temple, but the peace and tranquility that radiated from the place always put him at ease. Ahsoka had told him many times about what the temple was like on the inside, and Droidbait wanted nothing more than to be able to go inside, just once.

The underbelly of Coruscant, where clones tended to spend their time when planetside, was a different story. It was dark, crowded, and full of people who either distrusted him or viewed him as a piece of Republic property. Neither of those opinions were to his liking. He’d often accompanied his brothers on their excursions to the lower levels, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed the grime and soot and inherent danger of criminal activity. He’d be perfectly happy if he never had to go down to the lower levels again.

Cutup, on the other hand? Cutup thrived on the dangers of the underground. Something in him came alive during anything involving subterfuge, and that included dodging seedy characters in the back alleys of underground Coruscant. It was a different kind of dangerous than the battlefield, something that required more finesse than just wielding a blaster, and Cutup loved it. There had been starbursts in his eyes when they told him what this mission would entail. Tracking and thwarting assassins was right up his alley.

Droidbait was just glad that he'd pulled sniper duty. It meant that he could skirt the action from the rooftops, keeping a close eye on the situation through his scope. He liked being able to see everything at once, and he trusted his sniper rifle more than any close range blaster. The sniper nest was where he belonged.

Before they could get to work, though, there was the briefing. Cutup hated briefings, which meant that he made Droidbait just as miserable as he was during them. Well timed eye rolls and subtle faux snoring from Cutup made it exceptionally hard to keep a straight face through a full meeting, let alone focus on what the commanders were trying to tell them.

Luckily, this briefing promised to be quick and straightforward. Commander Fox was already waiting for them in the Coruscant Guard briefing room, standing beside General Skywalker and Commander Ahsoka Tano.

Ahsoka’s eyes lit up when the two walked into the darkened room. “Droidbait! Cutup!”

Both of them moved smartly to attention. “Reporting for duty, Commander Tano,” Droidbait snapped out with the polished proficiency of the born soldier he was. As if he hadn’t spent the previous night circled up in the  _ Resolute’s _ rec room with her and a handful of other Torrent members, playing several rounds of sabbac. As an olive branch after everything that had happened at Umbara, Cutup had offered to teach Dogma how to play sabacc and the younger clone had hesitantly agreed. Droidbait suspected that it was more of an effort to get back in everyone's good graces than it was any actual desire to learn the game. Dogma wasn't exactly the gambling type.

The minute Ahsoka had heard about the plans for a game night, she'd asked to join. Torrent was only too happy to include her - they were all extremely fond of their shiny Jedi, and she’d been  _ vod’ika _ the instant she first stepped foot on the  _ Resolute _ . They’d all stayed up until ungodly hours of the morning, watching Ahsoka wipe the floor with them (how could someone so new to a game be  _ so good at it _ ?) and cackling at Hardcase’s stupid jokes. They'd all gone to bed a little more at ease with Dogma's presence back on the ship, and with a few less (imaginary) credits to their names.

Ahsoka straightened, her face schooling itself into something prim and commander-ly, though a sparkle of mischief remained in her wide blue eyes. “At ease, soldier,” she chirped back. "And hand over your credits now. Best to just get it over with."

Cutup groaned dramatically, his shoulders slumping to fall out of his inspection-ready stance as he was reminded of his devastating losses in last night's games. "I'm never living this down, am I?"

The padawan grinned impishly. "Not if I have anything to say about it." Droidbait snorted out a giggle at the very unprofessional groan that Cutup responded with.

Commander Fox’s features were completely obscured under the red and white Coruscant Guard armor, but the slow, subtle twist of his helmet sent the older clone’s disapproval prickling down Droidbait's spine. It reminded him of the way Kix could send out chills with a single armor-piercing stare, except that Fox’s disapproval held considerably more weight behind it. Kix could only pull so much rank as a medic, but Fox was a  _ commander _ . He could do whatever the hell he wanted with insubordinate troopers. Droidbait cleared his throat and returned to parade rest, properly abashed.

Cutup showed no such remorse. If he'd seen Fox's warning look, he gave it no heed, choosing instead to flash Ahsoka a grin. "Just you wait. I'll be practicing for next time."

Ahsoka’s grin was borderline feral. "Oh, I'm counting on it, trooper."

Luckily, General Skywalker didn't seem to mind the relaxed attitudes. Clearly amused by the antics of his padawan and his men, he'd left them to bicker and tease as he spun a dial on the holoprojector, sending a map shining above their heads. "Alright, you three. Let's get down to business, yeah?"

"Indeed." Fox reached over, adjusting the map until it showed a specific sector of the lower city. He sent another piercing glance towards Cutup. "Some of us have jobs to get back to."

Droidbait couldn't see his brother's face, but he knew he was grinning. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again, sir." He didn't sound sorry at all. Droidbait could practically hear Fox's teeth grinding under his bucket.

Thankfully, Skywalker jumped in before Cutup could dig his grave any deeper. "Fox, you have the specs on our guy?"

"Yessir." Fox hit a button on the projector, and the still image of their assassin spun into existence over top of the map. The figure appeared male, human, of a muscular build and average height. He was dressed like a bounty hunter, with a metal chestplate of some exotic design over a more flexible undershirt and loose black pants. Both of his arms were cybernetic, and one appeared to end in more of a blaster than a hand. A mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes visible - one dark and one light. The rest of his features were hard to make out thanks to the hood pulled over his head.

Fox circled to the side, his sharp gaze running critically over the projection. "We don't have an ID yet, and we can't figure out who he's working for. My boys have been trying to trace the armor design, but they've only gotten as far as a guild of armorers in the Outer Rim. They supply a number of Separatist organizations."

"Could be anyone, then." Skywalker's blue eyes were narrowed as he stared at the projector, hand at his chin in a gesture oddly reminiscent of Commander Kenobi's infamous Thinking Face. "We won't know who we're dealing with until we bring him in."

"And bringing him in  _ alive _ is essential," Fox emphasized. "The chances that he's working alone are next to none. We need to know who wants the senator dead."

"Agreed. Where do we think he'll strike?"

Fox hit another dial, and the map flickered back into place. "Here's what I think…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bit more of an exposition-heavy chapter, but next chapter we start to dive into the good stuff. Stay tuned!


End file.
